The Diary of A Survivor Entry 1 (Rated 16+ for V & L)

Good Morning/Afternoon/Evening/Night(whichever one it is in your part of the world),

Hi! I'm here to leave a quick review!!

Anyway let's get right to it,

I awoke with a startle. It seemed that the entire town was on full alert the past few days, and I didn't know why. I got dressed and walked over to the window. What I saw was beautiful, like a shooting star. A single line of whitish gold... it was stunning and simply amazing. I didn't know what to do, so I just stared. I heard yelling in the streets, so I ran to my parents room, which overlooked the streets below. What I saw were riots, screaming and blood. One man held a sign that said "Stop the War Now, Before It Is Too Late." That was the last thing I saw before the sky lit up, like a horrible grenade. My mother ran into the room.

"Alex, get on the floor, now!" She screamed at the top of her lungs, and I did what I was told. I was a fool.

You see, our house was a two story house, and above me was the attic, below, the kitchen and laundry room. Needless to say, the house went down with the flash, and the scream.

I woke in a daze, and just looked. Standing up I saw a huge cloud. It was horrid, and it had a pillar of smoke rising up to this cloud. It looked like a mushroom, and I was scared. I ran over to my mother, and flipped her over. What I saw, I will not put to words, it was that bad. God knows, the world was falling apart before my very eyes it may seem. Another long ribbon of light arced above my head, and it looked like it was heading for New Jersey. Another blinding flash, but this time I heard nothing. I looked down, and noted that my mother was mumbling something, but I didn't know what. I quickly realized that I was deaf, if only for a little while. So for a time, I just sat there, in the ruins of my house, watching my mother mumble words until she finally fell silent. I could only assume that the radiation had affected her mind, and it was no use trying to decipher what she was saying. Finally, she closed her mouth, shut her eyes, and went limp in my arms. I cried, like a small boy.

My name is Alex, I am 16, and I just survived the nuclear apocalypse. It is the year 2014, and we had been in a second Cold War with Russia. At least, it was cold... not anymore it may seem. I looked up at the dusty sky, and I just screamed. Then, I surveyed my surroundings, and saw all the bodies, the rioters, the 'hippies' if you will, fried to the ground, and I just laughed. But it was more of a cry than a laugh. A cry for help. I knew what I had to do. I went around back to the shed, or what was left of it, and I grabbed what I could. I filled a back pack I found in the ruins of the house with food, water, and most importantly, ammunition. I grabbed my dad's old holster, his pistol, and four clips.

I would survive, and I would find survivors, if it were the last thing I did.

4/16/14
Outskirts of New York
Entry 2: Savaging and Ravaging

After an entire day of walking, I had to lay down. My feet were killing me, and my eyes were crossing. The blistering heat of the sun was too much, and it made me think. What if the nuclear bombs had ripped open the ozone layer? Impossible, I'd be burned to pieces. I needed to sit down, rest, and think. So that's what I did. For about an hour, I just lay, face on the singed grass, thinking about what happened in the last 24 hours. I had been holding my emotions back, and I didn't know what to think.

"GOD DAMN IT!"

Why! Why would they destroy an entire civilization of people.

How, in good conscience, could someone do such a thing.

I punched the ground until my knuckles bled with defeat. I was never a defeatist, but at this point, I couldn't think straight. I had been a wreck before the break down of civilization as a whole. I barely had any friends, and the ones I did have, I wasn't sure if they were my friends. But I realized I missed them all the same.

I had only really had one good friend. His name was Randy, and we had been buds since kindergarten. But a little under a year ago, he moved to Florida, and I never really heard from him again. Taking off my shoes, I looked at my feet. There were blisters all over them, and I realized that my feet were really hurting.

"Thank god I know how to drive..." I mumbled to myself.

I thought for a minute of where I could find a car. It was unlikely that one had survived, and I was immediately depressed. My whole world had fallen apart in front of me, and there was no way I could ever get it back.

I got up, and continued my walking, until I came to a house. It was relatively undamaged, and I was surprised. My spirits lifted, as I looked through a window. What I saw was horrid. There was a man inside, but he was just wandering aimlessly... like a ghost. I stayed down, and didn't make a sound. My heart was beating a mile a minute, and I knew what I had to do. I reached into my pocket, and pulled out my father's pistol. I felt a horrible amount of remorse for the poor fellow, but it had to be done. I caught a glimpse of his face, and the entire thing looked like it had been burned, as if he was microwaved inside his own home. His home was his coffin, and I the nail.

I tapped on the glass, and he looked up from his mindless wandering. He bore his teeth and made a hissing noise. My stomach jumped, and I realized that I was sweating. I raised my gun, and put a bullet in between his eyes. My eyesight went fuzzy, and I realized that I just killed something. Never before had I shot a gun, so this was naturally scary to me. What was more surprising though was my deadly accuracy. For someone who had never shot a gun, that was much too accurate. I felt different after killing that 'thing'. Like a part of me died with it. I sat down to rest before going inside the house.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________

When I did go inside the house, I found it relatively unharmed. It was nice, to see something normal. Something that I could relate to from before... it happened. I sat on the couch and turned on the television. I tuned to my favorite channel, and what I saw both scared me, and gave me hope. A cocktail of emotions if you will. It was the news studio, only the anchors were lying dead in a corner and two people were broadcasting a message. It was on a loop, and I recognized the voices. It was my friend, John. He was calling for help, and said he could be found at the studio the message was broadcasting from, Studio 6 in New Jersey. I could see the devastation that had hit Jersey from outside of a window in the studio.

I surfed through the channels, but all I found was the same cryptic message. So after searching the house, I found car keys, a ton of food and some spare gas. After a while, I stumbled upon a safe. It was open, so I took a look inside. To my happiness, I found some money, and some guns, along with a few credit cards.

I buried the body, because it didn't feel right to leave it there, rotting. The garage had two cars, a two seater, and a van. I took the two seater, because it was faster, just in case any more of those 'things' I had encountered were around. With the car and supplies in tow, I sped down the highway towards John.

Alright awesome!! I'm excited to read it PM me when it's up.

Well, I see what you are saying, the next chapter will definetely have more feeling to it, and I think you will enjoy it.

Hello

So, after reading this I am very interested in seeing where it will go, you definitely have a great idea for a plot going.

I do agree with funkyreg101 though, even if you say that you don't like to write with much emotion, you really need to. Sure, this is his journal about how he survived a nuclear war, so it is just a recount of everything that has happened to him...but it's hard for a reader to be interested in reading the story of a character who seems to just document everything without any personal reflection. You need to give your character much more depth or readers will be bored with him, very quickly. Let us get to know him through his emotions and reactions. Also, some of these sentences are very choppy...it seems as though a lot of what the character says is "It was this.." and "It was that...", try messing around with how you word things and see if you can make it flow better Also, there was a lot of repetition with "I saw..." Try to refrain from repetition of phrasing.

All in all, you have a great idea going here, just work on flow and character development

Keep writing!
-Once

P.S. It's not Twilight-ish if you tell us what he's feeling when his mother dies in his arms. Besides, I didn't get the feeling that he was hardened by this because I didn't know how he was previously.

funkyreg101 wrote:Good evening! I'm Regan, your reviewer for today.
#FF0000 ">Red is gorrections
and lets make.....#800040 ">this color the good things.
I'll highlight the word/phrase then comment about it bellow the paragraph. Let's start!

maddoxpatt wrote:4/15/14
New York, New York
Entry 1: A New Kind of War


Hm. Well to start with, it doesn't have much voice or express his emotions very much. I think you had a good idea, but it could use some improving.

Good evening! I'm Regan, your reviewer for today.
#FF0000 ">Red is gorrections
and lets make.....#800040 ">this color the good things.
I'll highlight the word/phrase then comment about it bellow the paragraph. Let's start!

maddoxpatt wrote:4/15/14
New York, New York
Entry 1: A New Kind of War

I awoke with a startle. It seemed that the entire town was on full alert the past few days, and I didn't know why. I got dressed and walked over to the window. #FF0000 ">What I saw was terrible. A single line of whitish gold... it was stunning, simply amazing. I didn't know what to do, so I just stared. I heard yelling in the streets, so I ran to my parents room, which overlooked the streets below. What I saw were riots, screaming and blood. One man held a sign that said "Stop the War Now, Before It Is Too Late." That was the last thing I saw before the sky lit up, like a horrible grenade. My mother ran into the room.
#FF0000 ">First of all, what's the line? I'm so confused! Second, you said it was terrible, then said it was stunning and amazing. confusing...
"Alex, get on the floor, now!" She screamed at the top of her lungs, and I did what I was told. I was a fool.

You see, our house was a two story house, and above me was the attic, below, the kitchen and laundry room. Needless to say, the house went down with the flash, and the scream.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I woke in a daze, and just looked. Standing up I saw a huge cloud. It was horrid, and it had a pillar of smoke rising up to this cloud. It looked like a mushroom, #FF0000 ">and I was scared. I ran over to my mother, and flipped her over. What I saw#FF0000 ">, I will not put to words, it was that bad. God knows#FF0000 ">, the world was falling apart before my very eyes it #FF0000 ">may seem. Another long ribbon of light arced above my head, and it looked like it was heading for New Jersey. Another blinding flash, but this time I heard nothing. I looked down, and noted that my mother was mumbling something, but I didn't know what. I quickly realized that I was deaf, if only for a little while. So for a time, I just sat there, in the ruins of my house, watching my mother mumble words until she finally fell silent. I could only assume that the radiation had affected her mind, and it was no use trying to decipher what she was saying. Finally, she closed her mouth, shut her eyes, and went limp in my arms. I cried#FF0000 ">, like a small boy.
#FF0000 ">Never say they're afraid, or happy, or nervious, etc. etc, it's not very good writing. Explain how he felt instead. Perhaps: He trmbled and felt his stomach looping into knots. I don't think these commas are needed.

My name is Alex, I am 16, and I just survived the nuclear apocalypse. It is the year 2014, and we had been in a second Cold War with Russia. At least, it was cold... not anymore it may seem. I looked up at the dusty sky, and I just screamed. Then, I surveyed my surroundings, and saw all the bodies, the rioters, the 'hippies' if you will, fried to the ground, and I just laughed. But it was more of a cry than a laugh. A cry for help. I knew what I had to do. I went around back to the shed, or what was left of it, and I grabbed what I could. I filled a back pack I found in the ruins of the house with food, water, and most importantly, ammunition. I grabbed my dad's old holster, his pistol, and four clips.

I would survive, and I would find survivors, if it were the last thing I did.

END of Entry 1